


Memories

by Imionn (The_River_Blaire)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 04:20:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_River_Blaire/pseuds/Imionn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is post Richenbach, Sherlock is sitting alone in a shack that Molly had set up as his hide out and thinking back on some of his memories. If you guys want, I can write how I felt his childhood was.<br/>This is the first Fan-Fic I've ever written, so I hope you like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

Sherlock sat in the little shack at the back of the graveyard (Molly figured this would be the safest place, no one would find him here.) He stared up at the ceiling and thought about his childhood; he never thought about it before, but now he had the time, and he figured it better than to just sit in boredom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sherlock stepped out of the car and looked at the large building looming in front of him. In his hand was his small, tin lunch box and on his back was a large backpack filled with books. His first day of school lay ahead of him, excitement boiled within him as he followed his older brother to the large double doors. “Good Luck!” His mother called from the car. Mycroft lead him to his classroom then walked away. Sherlock looked at the formidable door and attempted to reach the handle, he could just nearly touch it. Thinking of another way to open the door, he pulled a few books from his backpack and put them on the floor, to stand on. He reached up and turned the handle pushing the impossibly heavy door open. Once the door was open he collected his books and entered the room. The walls to the room were a dull beige covered in posters about how to formulate sentences, bookshelves lined the back wall, on the shelves were aqua baskets filled with picture books and easy chapter books, there were a few tables in the middle of the room. The room was filled with kids, a few girls sat at a table colouring, another group was playing hand games, a group of boys tousled in the corner with the rest watching, cheering for their the boy they wanted to win. The room smelled strongly like finger paints and fruit. Sherlock wandered over to an empty table and “set up camp.” He threw his backpack on the table as well as his lunchbox, he removed the books from his backpack and sprawled them out around him, looking at all of them until he finally picked a book. He lifted it and began to read.

A little boy who was watching the boys tousling saw Sherlock and walked over to him. “Hello” The little boy said.

Sherlock looked up from his book. “Um... Hi.” Sherlock responded.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” The little boy asked.

“Sort of. I was pushed up two grades.” Sherlock replied returning to his book.

“What’s your name?” The little boy inquired sitting down across from Sherlock.

“Sherlock.” He answered without looking up from his book.

“That’s a funny name.” The boy laughed. “Well, I’m Charles.” The little boy announced proudly, puffing out his chest the same way a peacock would show off its large tail feathers. Sherlock looked up from his book and stared at the boy, his fair skin and eyes and short blonde hair made him look older than just 2nd grade. Sherlock smirked. “So, how do you get pushed up two grades?”

“I am just that smart I suppose.” Sherlock replied smugly, Charles found this somehow amusing giggled.

“Hey, you’re funny. You are going to be my friend.” Charles said decidedly.

************************************

Sherlock sat at the lunch table reading a rather large book, snow battered the window of the cafeteria. It was winter of 5th grade. The cafeteria was filling up, but no one came near Sherlock. The sickening, conflicting smells of cookies, pizza, and macaroni and cheese wafted from the kitchen.

Three boys strolled up and ripped the book from Sherlock’s hands. “So, genius. What are you reading?” One asked tossing the book between himself and his friends.

“You wouldn’t understand it.” He responded watching them.

“Oh, right. ‘Cause we are idiots.” The largest one laughed as he tore one of the pages out of the book.

“Hey!” Sherlock shouted. That is when Charles walked up.

”Leave him alone, Mike.” Charles said calmly putting his backpack next to a chair and placing his lunch down on the table, raising to his full height. Charles was extremely tall for his age and was muscular as well.

“What are you? His bodyguard?” Mike asked sarcastically.

Charles drew his hands into fists, preparing for whatever might happen. “Just bug off.” Charles snapped pulling the book from his hands. Mike and his two friends simply walked away and Charles sat down across from Sherlock, handing him back his book. “You know you really shouldn’t let them treat you like that.” Charles told Sherlock. “Yea..... Whatever.” Sherlock gazed out the window. Charles followed his gaze and noticed the amount of snow that had accumulated. “Snowball fight after school?” Charles asked. “Can’t. Got detention after school.” “Again? What did you do this time?” Charles half laughed half complained. “Got into a fight with Sam after telling him he was doing a math problem totally wrong. But we could have one now.” Sherlock laughed.

“Won’t you just get into more trouble?” Charles looked at Sherlock.

“It is lunch, those idiots,” Sherlock motioned to the cafeteria aids that were sitting at one of the tables chatting, completely oblivious to what the kids around them were doing, “won’t ever notice two kids gone.”

Sherlock stood picking up his lunch tray and tossing it into the trash can as he passed.

“Um, Sherlock, forgetting something?” Charles called after him. Sherlock turned to see Charles holding up Sherlock’s coat. Sherlock moved reluctantly to grab it.

***********************************

Freshmen year of high school was coming and kids chatted excitedly about what they had planned for the summer. Sherlock clicked in his locker combination, and pulled the door open, he looked in his barren locker, a few books laid in the bottom and a jacket was in there from a few weeks ago. He pulled out the jacket, the day was surprisingly chilly for late spring. Dodging the kids who were milling the halls and escaped through the front door. He looked down the street and started home, staring at his feet, his hands grasping the straps of his backpack. The trees swayed in the late spring breeze.

“Yo! Mini-Brain!” Someone called from behind him. (His nickname was mini-brain because of how young but brilliant he was.) He turned to see Mike running towards him. “I never got back at you for class this morning” Mike said swinging at Sherlock. He ducked just in time and gave Mike a swift punch to the stomach. Furious, Mike dove at Sherlock; tackling him to the ground. He sat on Sherlock, crushing him, punching him continually. Blood soon streamed from Sherlock’s nose and he gained a black eye. Content, Mike stood up and walked away. Sherlock just lay there bleeding. Why did he go to school, this is what happened, he said something and after school he got beat up.

A dark car pulled up beside him. “Sherlock!” A voice called from the car. Sherlock lifted his head to look up and see his brother sitting in the driver’s seat. Sherlock just put his head back on the ground and closed his eyes. Mycroft could never just let him be, he always had to interfere. “Sherlock, get in.” Sherlock moaned and stood up, picked up his backpack, and walked down the road. “Sherlock, don’t be stupid, get in.” Sherlock sighed and stepped into the car.

********************************

It was only the second week of 10th grade and Sherlock was back at the dean’s office, for the 17th time. The hard wooden bench was beginning to feel like home. This time he was there for insulting his teacher, throwing the textbook across the room then storming out. He listen to his parent talking to the dean. “You really must deal with your son, I don’t care how bright he is. I don’t care how young he is. We cannot be giving him special treatment, and he cannot get away from this.” The dean told his mother and father. Sherlock smiled. The dean always said that, but Sherlock always got away with it, he always got special treatment. He laughed remembering his teacher’s face that morning.

********************************

It was around the mid-terms of 11th grade, and the entire school was at some stupid assembly about how the mid-terms worked and what not.

“I’m bored.” Sherlock whispered to Charles, who was sitting next to him.

“What do you want me to do about it?” Charles asked his younger friend. Sherlock thought for a moment then looked down at his watch. It was 11:45. Close enough to noon.

“Let’s leave and go get some lunch.” Sherlock replied and slipped out of his chair. Charles followed him and they both escaped out the back of the auditorium, walking straight out the school’s front door.

They wandered up and down the street till they came across a coffee shop. “Let’s just eat here.” Charles said. It was the only place open before noon, so Sherlock agreed. They walked in and sat at the nearest table. Some elderly women sat in one corner chatting, playing cards, some seniors sat at the counter flirting with the girl serving them, her long dirty blonde hair was tied back in a low ponytail, an expensive necklace wrapped around her neck. “I’ll go get us some drinks.” Charles said raising from his chair and walking over the the counter. He ordered two coffees and picked up two scones as well. The girl working the counter made the drinks and handed them to Charles. He wandered back over to the table. “She is sort of hot.” Charles remarked as he sat down.

“You are such an animal.” Sherlock smirked. “She is clearly at least 24, you are you are 17, she has a boyfriend, who is probably about 27, and their relationship is fairly serious.”

“How the hell...”

“Look at her necklace. She is working at a coffee shop, she isn’t making enough to buy something that expensive. It is ruby and onyx, Not something a father would get his daughter or a sibling for another sibling. There you go boyfriend, he would have to be older than her to be able to purchase something that expensive, and the fact it is that expensive tells you the relationship is seri...” Sherlock trailed off when he saw Charles’ look of frustration.

“You can’t let anyone dream, can you?” Charles asked glaring at Sherlock.

*******************************

Senior graduation. The dean stood at the podium going on and on about moving up in the world, and he had lost Sherlock’s attention. Sherlock shook his leg in impatience and tapped his fingers on his knee. “How much longer till we get to leave?” Sherlock leaned over to Charles. “I mean we already have our diplomas.”

“I think we still have about half an hour.” Charles whispered back to Sherlock.

“God!” Sherlock exclaimed, “do we really need to sit here and listen to this idiot drone on and on?”

“No, we need to sit here and listen to you drone on and on.” Charles smirked knowing Sherlock didn’t prepare a speech.

“Pardon?” Sherlock gave his friend a confused look.

“Valedictorians always give a speech, didn’t anyone tell you?”

“Nope.” Sherlock shrugged. The dean eventually finished his long, tedious, and boring speech and called Sherlock up.

“Thank you, Mr. Small.” Sherlock said nodding to the dean. “Now for the interesting stuff.” Charles chuckled wondering what Sherlock was about to pull. “You” Sherlock said pointing at a girl in the front row in a mint green dress. “You were accepted into Oxford, am I correct, and Cambridge. Full scholarships. So why aren’t you going?” Sherlock smirked.

“I.... Um....”The girl stuttered. “I am afraid of...” She said quietly.

“You’re afraid of what? Moving on, doing something with your life, growing up?” Sherlock laughed. 

“Uh... Yea...” The girl muttered.

“All you idiots wanted to do when you were younger was grow up, but now that you are you simply want to be little. MAKE UP YOUR BLOODY MINDS!” He shouted then walked away from the podium and out the door. Charles laughed and followed him out.

********************************

Freshman year of college, Sherlock looked around his dorm room, and smiled. No one was sharing the room with him. He was alone. He put down his suitcase and threw his clothes into a drawer, He took the skull Charles had given him as a graduation present and put it on the side table next to his bed. He wondered what Charles was up to. Sherlock noticed the window was facing an abandoned overgrown courtyard, and he was on the ground floor. He climbed out the window and stepped into the high grass. An old gazebo was covered in ivy, and ferns weaved up through its floor. The bench beside it was also covered in ivy. Birds chirped on top of the aged gazebo. The world here was so green here, and Sherlock smiled, but he didn’t see the beauty and tranquility of the courtyard, he saw a large empty place to experiment, and birds to experiment on.

*******************************

Sherlock’s 21st birthday, Mycroft and Charles dragged him out despite his constant attempts to remain at home, “Come on!” Charles begged. “I’ve waited two years to finally go drinking with you.”

Sherlock looked at Mycroft and wanted to punch that smug look off of his face. “You guys are so typical. Everyone goes to a bar on their twenty first birthday. Well, I’ll tell you something. I got bored a few days ago and figured you would insist on taking me to a bar so...” He said as he walked back into the house and wandered into the kitchen. Three glasses stood on the counter, filled with an amber liquid that was foaming at the top. “I’ve made us some.” He chuckled when he saw Charles’ astonished face.

“You know how to make beer!?” He exclaimed.

“Oh, it wasn't hard, besides, I was bored, and chem was always my strong suit.”

They were soon sitting around the table in the dining room. Sherlock watched as Charles took a sip of the beer. He smiled up at Sherlock. “You so didn’t make this!” Charles said in disbelief. “Why is it so shocking I can make beer?”

*******************************

Charles stood across from Sherlock. “I’ve put up with so much from you, but this has crossed the line!” Charles yelled.

“Okay, I'm confused, what have I done?”

“Oh, I don't know genius, maybe putting secret cameras in my room!”

“It isn’t like they were on all the time.” Sherlock said. “besides, it was just an experiment.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause that makes it so much better.”Charles responded sarcastically.

“I seriously don’t see what is wrong with it.” Sherlock said.

“You don’t. Why am I not surprised. Well you know what. Screw you, you arrogant sod!” He shouted storming out of the room. Sherlock knew that was it. His childhood friend had just left, the only one who put up with him, and he wasn’t coming back.

******************************

Sherlock wandered across the yellow tape and walked past the police. He walked straight up to the body and kneeled down beside it. The woman was about 28, she wore a dark blue sweater with a pale blue camisole under it, she had on a pair of dark blue jeans. She was tall and lean. She had dark red lipstick on and some eyeliner, but that was it. There was something around her lips, Sherlock knew what that was a sign of.

“I’m sorry sir, but you can’t be here.” A voice sounded behind him.

“She wasn’t killed by the gun.” Sherlock said staring at the body.

“Yes she was.” The man replied, “Who are you anyway.”

“Sherlock Holmes. And no she wasn’t. Look around her lips.” He said pointing at her.

“What am I looking at?” The man asked.

“The crust, look, it wouldn’t be there if the bullet killed her. She was poisoned.” He said and walked away leaving the man standing there, utterly confused.

“ANDERSON!” The man called, “Test this woman for poison.”

“Okay, Lestrade, but why?” A man called back.

“Just do it.” The man called Lestrade answered back. ‘Who is that man.’ He thought to himself.

****************************

Lestrade burst into the flat. “Sherlock!” He called but received no answer. Walking in he saw the consulting detective unconscious on the couch, an empty syringe laid on the floor. “Sherlock, what have you done?” He asked pulling his mobile out of his pocket and dialing. “Hello, we need an ambulance at 273 Kinsley Ave.” He spoke into the phone. Moments later sirens could be heard down the road, and the ambulance drove up. The paramedics loaded Sherlock into a stretcher, brought him to the ambulance and drove away.

Sherlock woke, groggy, on the hard hospital bed. The stiff, sterile sheets scratched against his skin. He could hear the dull beeps of the heart monitor beside him, wires and tubes poked into him. He waited for his sight to clear, and looked around the room. The bleached white walls and bright light shining through the window blinded him. “Sherlock?” A voice sounded from the doorway. “What, Lestrade?” “What was that all about?” Lestrade asked. “I was bored.” Sherlock remarked sitting up in the bed. “So you go and bloody overdose?” He demanded. “Anything to not be bored.” Sherlock shrugged.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting in the little shack, he thought of all his memories, his childhood, and he missed it.


End file.
